


Know What You Signed Up For

by butterpanic



Series: Cats, the V is silent [16]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Elevator Sex, F/M, Post-Nathema, Trapped In Elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-17
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-10-30 02:32:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17820125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterpanic/pseuds/butterpanic
Summary: Well, at least they can share an elevator again. That's progress.





	Know What You Signed Up For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [commanderlurker (honeybee592)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeybee592/gifts).



"Wait! Hold the-"

A hand shoves its way through the disappearing crack in the elevator doors, followed by an arm and then by the wedging body of the woman Theron Shan simultaneously wants to see most and least in the entire galaxy. The Commander seems to feel the same, judging by the way her mouth forms and abandons options before settling on a terse, "Theron," and a fixed gaze on the opposite wall.

Well, at least they can share an elevator again. That's progress.

No eye contact. No small talk. There's a caf in her hand that someone else put there, and he knows that by now it's gone cold with exactly a quarter left in the bottom of the cup. Don't need a chrono when Cats is around, just read the rings inside the rim. Old mug, new mug; she gets through the day with the reflex of an open palm and a nod of thanks to the supplier.

Not him, anymore. A year ago it would have been, now he knows he'll be running into her refueling team on the other side of the elevator doors. Corso or Risha if they're on base. Lana if they aren't. Theron watched Gault do it once last week.

That one hurt a little, if he's being honest.

He did the right thing. Theron wouldn't have done it if he hadn't been sure and he's still sure of that. Cats must agree, on some level, because he spent enough time with her file before Korriban to know what happens when someone double-crosses her. She'd offered him the open palm, not the blaster to the nuts. Alliance pardon. His old quarters, even, not a demotion down to the barracks.

No eye contact, though. No inappropriate flirting during briefings. No even-more-inappropriate smacks on the ass after briefings. He hasn't tried bringing her caf in the morning but he doesn't need to try his access code to the _Majestic Princess_ to know that it won't work anymore. Theron's got just enough of a routine reestablished now to see exactly how many holes she's left in it.

The elevator grinds to a halt and Cats nearly plows into the doors, too focused on escape to realize they've failed to open. She turns on him, eyes closed.

"You shouldn't have sliced the elevator."

He hadn't sliced the elevator. Not since he came back. Before, sure; even though it earned him an entirely deserved lecture about professionalism from Lana every time. She's absolutely right - it's bad optics for the Commander of the Eternal Alliance to have poorly-concealed public sex and it's inconvenient for everyone who's forced to take the emergency stairs while the elevator is out of commission.

(What Lana never seemed to consider in her arguments was that the Commander of the Eternal Alliance really, really liked getting off in places that were inconvenient for everyone. And that she had fantastic breasts. Theron was smart enough not to bring this particular counterargument to the table.)

Seeing as they're not even on "friendly smile in the hallway" terms right now, though, slicing the elevator for some unprofessional behavior with his ex hadn't been on the schedule for the day any more than sharing an elevator with her.

"Not me."

He jams the panel a few times, just to confirm that that definitely isn't going to do anything useful. Starts considering the interference of the shaft and various Alliance communications routing times - is he still in Lana's priority queue? Theron is busy calculating how likely it is that he can climb up the shaft without his infiltration kit, both with and without Cats, when he gets an override message. Loud and clear, from the woman herself, who is suddenly much closer than before and looking down at him with his own confusion.

"I want to kiss you," she murmurs, almost to herself. "Can I... is that...?"

Theron gets it. He really does. It was a question he asked on Nathema, on Copero, on Umbara. After every time they pass in the hallway, at every briefing and four hours after the doors of his empty quarters close behind him every night. Thing is, it isn't a question he's managed to tease out the answer to, and if she's asking, it's probably best just to put her tongue in his mouth.

 _Yeah_ , he thinks, as his lips tilt up to press against hers, _probably for the best_.

"You're an idiot," someone says, and he's not sure which of them says it or who it's for. Either of them. Both of them, probably, and he doesn't care because all he can taste is her. Every gray day lighting up, every lonely fantasy dissolving into the way she grinds against him.

She's right, or he's right. About anything. About everything. They are idiots and they are unprofessional and they are broken and they are wearing too many clothes. Her hands are already fumbling at his belt, the familiarity of years of their least appropriate hobby filling the gap sense leaves. That can't- well, if she gets those hands where she wants them this is going to be over too soon, and the last confused scraps of his mind he hasn't tasked to getting her out of her shirt kick in long enough to shift them to his shoulders.

"You first," he says, running his fingers under the shirt, over the soft skin of her stomach as it tightens in his wake. His lips find her jaw, her neck, kissing his way down as nervous hands fumble at each button and clasp.

She has _fantastic_ breasts. 

It's selfish but he takes a moment here. Rests his face between them to feel her heartbeat against the warmth of her skin, the softness in that gap, the way she smells of sweat and life and everything home. No regrets. If her heart is still beating, he did the right thing, no matter what it means for him now.

Cats squirms under his nose and he shifts a hand up to cup a breast before she gets impatient enough to move it there herself. Noses against her nipple playfully, because he knows it annoys her, but doesn't hesitate to draw it into his mouth. Sweat, salt, sweet as he circles his tongue. Slow, like he wants, like he's missed. She moans, bends, and he takes advantage of the moment to reverse their positions, press her up against the metal of the elevator wall. To gaze up at her, past the gentle swell of her breast, as she meets his eyes and her lips part invitingly once again.

"Theron," she says, and he groans appreciatively against her in response, sucking her deeper. " _Theron_."

This time her hands tug at his hair, insistent against his arousal. Blinking, he pulls back.

"They're going to repair the elevator." She drops each word slowly, like she's explaining a foreign concept. Of course they'll repair the elevator, three quarters of the base is underground. They'd never get anything done if they didn't.

"Okay."

"We need to be done before they finish."

Oh. Right.

His hands make quick work of his belt and even quicker work of hers; his lips placed just so in the crease of her hip elicits the same gasping laugh it always does. The kisses he plants along her inner thighs while he unlaces her boots are just as awkward but in only a moment they stand chest to chest, his erection brushing the loose ends of her shirt, her sex warm and slick as he cups it in his hand. Lets her grind against him, just how she likes, no rhythm but that rhythm that's just her.

"Please," she says, "Please, please. Please." She repeats it, eyes searching his, and he's idiot enough to hope that she's asking for everything he wants to give, not just this. Not just the smooth slide inside her, the way her hips tilt to meet his own. The way she moans when his hand moves between her thighs, right there, using everything he's ever learned about her to drive her desperately over the edge.

Her lips close around the skin at the base of his throat and _pull_. He wouldn't have left a mark on her now, wouldn't have dared, but she does and that's when he loses control. _Stars._ He comes apart.

No eye contact, no pillow talk. She turns away to tug her jacket back over her shoulders. His belt is straightened and every hair back in place when the doors give their warning creak.

 _One, two, three._ Like clockwork, Lana's flat glare appearing between parted doors.

"And there they are," she says, motioning towards the nearby engineers. "No worse for wear. That's a Code Besh resolved."

"Good work, troops," Cats salutes with a wave of her caf. Another mug is presented and exchanged on the downswing. Looks like Risha's on rotation this morning, and she wrinkles her nose as Cats brushes by her on their way to the exit.

"Really?" Theron murmurs, as soon as Cats is out of earshot. " _Non-Emergency Maintenance Code Besh_? The elevator was actually broken, Lana, we could have been-"

"Don't play the fool, Theron, it doesn't suit you," she snaps. "Your algorithm hasn't changed. You didn't even bother to switch encryptions." Her glare softens, slightly, into something like a smile. "For what it's worth... I'm happy for you."

Theron woke up alone last month and last week and this morning and he hasn't understood a single thing that's happened in the past thirty minutes. _Kriff it._ With a chipper wave in Lana's direction, he heads to the cantina for lunch.

It's enough for now. 

* * *

"What is this?" Risha gingerly fishes the sodden spike out of a mug of cold caf.

"Oh, is that where that was?" Cats is flippant, but her hand closes around it with a quickness that belies her tone. Crushes it with the very same quickness, and shoves the unrecognizable remains into a pocket.

"No idea. Must've found it somewhere."


End file.
